The Illusions of Faramir Son of Denethor
by Ellen Elizabeth
Summary: Faramir lies ill and sees the world around him in dreams and hallucinations. Takes place during Return of the King. please r&r!
1. Fever

Title: Visions and Dreams Part I -- by Robin Geller  
  
Summary: (takes place during The Return of the King.) Faramir lies ill in Gondor. His delirium causes him to have strange visions. Some are truly happening. Some will happen. Some have no category.  
  
Rated: PG-PG13 for graphic imagery Characters: Faramir Distribution: Anyone who asks politely or has my permission otherwise Disclaimer: All characters/places.etc are property of J.R.R. Tolkien and his family.  
  
Days pass. I am delirious. I see many visions. Many dreams.  
In one, an elderly man who quite resembles my father argues with another man, far older, wearing white robes and carrying a white staff. His garments and his very essence glow so that it stings my unseeing eyes. Both men are very angry. I cannot hear or understand what they say, but I hear my name and the name of Boromir many times.  
In another dream or vision, I am well. Standing proud in the presence of my father. NExt to me is a Halfling. I recognize him. "Lord Denethor!" I say triumphantly, "I bring you a great gift that will change the odds of Gondor and all men."  
Then the scene fades into another vision. The white city, the tower, all in flames. And on the very top level, in a small tower, a white light shines down towards the orange and red flickering. Then, Denethor, Lord of Minas Tirith, Steward of Gondor steps to the window of the tower. His eyes are pupil-less and vacant. His mouth in an evil, insane grin. "Father!" I cry, and I must have cried it outside of my dream as well. The madman's crazed eyes meet mine and he says quietly, "You are not my son, Boromir was my only son."  
Then I am falling. Falling for and eternity. Scrabbling wildly for something to hold on to. Then the flames, flames ruining Gondor. They are on me now. The pain! The agonizing fire! I wake from my dream and the flames are all around me. Sweat trickles into my eyes. Maybe I am in another dream for if I am not mistaken; I am in the Hall of the Dead. Flames, fire. I try to cry out, "I am not dead! I am quite alive!" but my throat is too dry. Maybe I will die. It won't hurt anymore. Just as I sink back into my dreams, the door bursts open and good, white, light pours in. I see the outline of a knight, dressed in the garb of Gondor, then blackout.  
  
Stay tuned for Part II 


	2. Kingsfoil

I feel coolness upon my skin. The fires have died down, or gone out, or I have come out of it. The fresh air plays upon my face, and I realize how stifled the smoke had made me. The coolness of the air allows the burning to feel worse and that burning on my skin, the pain, is what tells me I'm alive.  
  
Though my mind settles a bit, I hear the cries of people around me. I can sense running and hear battle cries and screams. I can smell blood and the stench of orcs, and I can taste smoke in the air.  
  
Soon, I feel myself being laid on a soft bed and I sleep. But my fever burns on, and my skin burns on, under the shiny burns of fire. I sleep fitfully. At one point I remember my eyelids fluttering and I see a strange man bent over me. He must be a healer, but he doesn't help the burns, the fever.  
  
My mind turns inwards and the visions change, faster than sound. White, red, blue, pink, orange, green, yellow, black. They change so fast I can hardly see the colors.  
  
BANG! I hear the door swing open and I am shaken out of my horrific rainbow of dreams. My eyes are closed but my other senses are doubled. A man has entered. I can see his shape against my eyelids. He is tall, slim, and lordly. He comes to my side and I hear him speaking, then arguing with the healer. Then he leaves my room, and I drift off.  
  
My mind is jolted awake and I realize how alive my brain feels. Since I became ill, my senses and sight have been clouded and groggy. Now sharpened, I recognize the Man at my side. A lovely scent fills my nostrils and I feel my hot but chilled body relax. Kingsfoil is the last thought that drifts into my head as I fall into my first restful sleep. 


	3. Spring

A/N: I wrote the last part of this chapter without the book so please forgive me if the dialogue is off. Happy reading!  
  
After a few weeks, I learned that I lay in the Houses of Healing. And from the healers I learned that there were also two other patients, a Halfling and a Lady of Rohan. The man that healed me was a king. The King of Gondor no less. I asked to see him, but he refused to enter the city.  
  
After I could stand looking at the walls, ceiling, and floor no longer, I took to going out to the garden. There was color there, and it was a place I could walk around and recover my strength. My favorite time to go out was early morning, when the sun rose and the flowers were still wet from the dew. I would watch the people lightheartedly rebuilding the outer walls and talking amongst themselves. I wished to be with them. I was conversation hungry. Sometimes I had visitors, but they just wanted to take my council or give me an update on the city's progress or other important events. They never came to talk. A simple "Yes" or "I agree" or "No, I would do it this way" was all I ever said.  
  
One day, a guard came and told me that a small party had gone off to Mordor to end the war. The King was with them. I said simply, "thank you" and dismissed him. I wandered aimlessly into the garden.  
  
There, amid the roses, and lilies stood a Maiden. Her beauty surpassed any I had seen and yet she was not an elf. She wore a white dress, very simple in pattern, yet it was the loveliest thing I had ever come across. Her light hair was floating queenly in the wind. She had a smooth face and her eyes were light and young, yet they hid knowledge and if you had looked long enough, you could see death, and pain and bravery and weariness. She, like her eyes, was cold and distant, like a wispy cloud on an early morning. When the sun has not warmed the earth yet, and the cold dew is still settled over the ground. I waited; not wanting to believe it was real. She was another Vision or Dream. She couldn't be real. Yet, this time, I didn't want to wake. Presently I realized she was crying silently. I stepped forward, concerned. "What ails you, Lady?" I ventured.  
  
She spun around and wiped the tears off her face with the back of her hand. "It is the company that left, Lord, I fear for them," she said.  
  
"Do not weep so, my dear, for there is a King with them. He will not let them fall as long as he lives." With that, her tears started again.  
  
That night, I realized what she meant. She loved him. And whether his heart was hers or not, she could love no other.  
  
The next morning, she was not in the garden, but I could wait. I sat on a white bench, and sang gaily. I waited till mid-morning, when she came out again. She swept past me and went to the East side of the garden and looked out towards Orodruin. I went up to her. "What be your name, Lady?"  
  
"I am Eowyn, daughter of Eomund, shieldmaiden of Rohan," she said without looking at me.  
  
"Ah, my doctors tell me that you defeated a Nazgul on your own," I was trying to make conversation.  
  
"Not without it's proper consequence. I am left here once again to drift about on my own, instead of riding away to Mordor."  
  
"You wish to go there? Why? Why a woman such as yourself should want to ride off to war is beyond my thoughts."  
  
"You do not understand, Lord. I am a good warrior and I have no fears. All my life I have been left behind to make beds and cook meals. I want none of that."  
  
Slowly I lifted a hand, and very lightly touched her cheek, "you are a beautiful and interesting young lady, but there is something you do not tell me. We are both prisoners of this house. Let us be friends. It would help to pass time." She looked at me, and after a moment, she nodded.  
  
We talked together, spending many days in the garden. My love for her grew. Finally, I ventured, "You love him, do you not?"  
  
She sat up abruptly and turned away, but after a minute she nodded once. Then, "he is a kind and brave man."  
  
"--And he is a king," I offered, not unkindly. She looked at her lap. "Does he feel the same way?" I asked, not wanting to hear the answer.  
  
"No!" she said, and I could tell she was trying not to cry. "no! He loves an elf! A perfect elf maiden. One that I could never live up to."  
  
"Perhaps you could learn to love another?" She looked at me, tears streaming down her face, and she said nothing.  
  
"Eowyn, daughter of Eomund. Say you feel the same as I!" I kissed her smooth, cold lips, and I tasted the salt of her tears.  
  
When we parted, her expression had changed. She looked confused and the ages of experience and knowledge had gone from her eyes. She looked young and helpless. "Let him go. He has a queen."  
  
She looked up at me and said, "I wish no longer to be a queen. I do not want to be a shield maiden either."  
  
"Then be my Lady, and live with me forever!" I said, my voice breaking with joy and love for this cold spring bud that had blossomed before my very eyes!  
  
"Yes, Lord," she said simply. 


End file.
